It started with a recent column in which I posed the important question, “Why do people pay to wear apparel that advertises other people’s businesses?”
“I don’t get it,” I asked in the column. “If a company wants me to walk around advertising its product, shouldn’t it pay me?”
At the end of the column, I added, “If you’re interested in buying a T-shirt with the message, ‘I Read D.L. Stewart’s Column,’ I’d be happy to sell it to you. If you have any taste whatsoever, you probably wouldn’t want to wear it in public.” But it would, I suggested, make a perfect Christmas present.
The column was written with my tongue so far into my cheek I was sure no one would take it seriously. Which only proves how greatly I have overestimated my readers.
Because a week later I receive a package from a reader containing a white T-shirt with my photo on the front and the message: “I read D.L. Stewart’s columns” — “I have no taste what so ever.”
While I appreciate the reader’s time and effort, I’m not sure what to do with that shirt. It may be perfectly acceptable to be seen in public wearing a T-shirt with the pictures of one’s grandchildren on it, but walking around with your own picture on your chest puts you in a category somewhere between pathetically desperate for attention and certifiably loony.
My wife isn’t interested in wearing a T-shirt with my name and picture on it, either. Marrying me is one thing, she informed me, but bragging about it is a nonstarter. Or maybe she said complaining about it.
That’s not my only dilemma, though.
The reader also has proposed printing more of the T-shirts and selling them to “your loyal readers” for $19.95 (shipping and handling included).
So now I’m not sure what to do.
I could agree to have the T-shirts made available and run the risk of discovering that all my loyal readers could fit into the backseat of a MINI Cooper.
On the other hand, what if this T-shirt thing turns into the next Pet Rock or Chia Pet? The next thing I know, people would be demanding other D.L. Stewart apparel. Caps. Hoodies. Jockey shorts. I’m not sure I’m ready to have my face on someone else’s underwear.
Besides, it would be too late to market them as Christmas presents, except for those loyal readers who are heavily into procrastination.
But then, there’s always April Fool’s Day.
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